


Therapy

by Bettys_blend



Series: Microstrikes and Strikethroughs [2]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Exercises for amputees, Gen, Odd coincidences, Pat's 70s music, classic cinema - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bettys_blend/pseuds/Bettys_blend
Summary: In which Robin has the privilege of witnessing a very silly coincidence.
Series: Microstrikes and Strikethroughs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189466
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Therapy

It was well past closing time; Pat had left but the partners were both looking over a particularly fiddly case involving a lawyer suspected of siphoning off a chunk of his client's money and laundering it through family connections.

Robin, who needed the extra space, had spread a sheaf of financial documents over the top of Pat's desk. She sighed; it was no use. Although they had recently proved themselves adept at finding missing people, they needed -here she gritted her teeth- an accountant to track down missing money.

A familiar creaking noise emanating from the inner office meant that Strike had taken a break from poring over potentially incriminating photos. She felt proud of her status as the only person around whom he would do his balance exercises, and pleased that he was actually doing them. As he stood on his prosthetic foot, he had to use the other one to roll a football forward and backward, then side to side. The door was open and she could just see his knee swinging back and forth, controlling the ball.

Her subconscious was supplying a faint bass beat- or was it actually the radio? She flicked the volume on Pat's speakers up a notch and clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a mad guffaw.

This was priceless and she'd never have another chance.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she set her phone to video and hit record.

One second passed- two seconds- as with her other hand she smoothly and gradually turned the speakers up as high as they would go.

_**Gotta have some hot stuff,** _

_**Gotta have some love tonight...** _

And right on cue, he pivoted, spinning to face her with a "what the fuck?"on his lips, to find her convulsing silently as she switched off her phone, tears running down her face.

"I'm sorry!", she gasped, and he knew she wasn't. "But you were brilliant, you've got to see it. I'll never believe you again when you say you can't dance."

He aimed for a forbidding expression but it wouldn't come. When she laughed like that, she seemed heartbreakingly young. His lip twitched up on one side as he recalled all the time and effort she had put in, year after year; her heroic saves, her ingenious ideas, her calm and methodical planning behind the scenes. At that moment, it struck him as massively unfair to expect perpetually professional behaviour from a woman not yet a month into her thirties.

"I don't cooperate with blackmailers, Ellacott", he grinned, drawing closer. "But" -lowering his voice to practically whisper in her ear- "how much to make sure Ilsa never sees that video?"

"Bottle of champagne?" she suggested, her eyes bright with mischief.

He almost kissed her then and there.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the fabulously talented NaNa. Twenty-seven when we hired her, worked like a demon all day...and when we would hit the ground-floor bar at six, she would hop up on the table and dance to Bon Jovi.  
> I miss you so much.


End file.
